


Just Another Boulder

by Ezlebe



Category: The Avengers (2012)
Genre: Gen, Humor, M/M, preslash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-05
Updated: 2012-05-05
Packaged: 2017-11-04 20:57:44
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,351
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/398134
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ezlebe/pseuds/Ezlebe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Coulson resigns to the fact that he's never going to get a vacation if this is what happens when he takes a business trip.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Just Another Boulder

**Author's Note:**

> I started writing this about two or so months ago, so there aren't any spoilers. I'm posting it now because watching the movie last night finally gave me the goose to actually finish it.

Phil expected his homecoming to be, at best, ignored and at worse, a copy of Hill’s resignation sitting on his desk the next morning. This, however, is something completely unexpected. At least they’re working together as a team when they start pouting and whining like children the minute he enters the tower common room.

“I want her fired,” Stark says, shaking a dramatic fist. “She’s a monster.”

Phil blinks slowly and wonders what Hill’s done now.

“Stark _is_ over reacting, but not by a lot,” Banner grimaces.

"You're absence affected the team more than was anticipated, sir," Jarvis' voice filters through the room. Phil furrows his brow; it couldn't have been that bad. Hill is a highly competent agent, perhaps even more so than himself.

“Seriously, how much would I have to pay you to never, ever leave again,” Starks asks. “I could get you a car, any car you want; pick make, model, and color. Unless you want a condo or something, then I’ll just buy-”

“Would someone like to actually explain rather than just expecting me to read your minds?” Phil interrupts, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“She cleaned out all the junkfood from the kitchen,” Stark starts, forgetting his previous diatribe and counting off on his fingers, “Told JARVIS that I wasn’t allowed to play my music at all hours, and then she took away the television.”

Phil sighs so deep he feels it in his bones, and rolls his eyes to the ceiling, “Why didn’t you just get more?”

“We did, sir,” Rogers says. “But she somehow managed to keep taking it away.”

“This has been the second or third worst week of my life,” Stark announces angrily. “I don’t know how she does any of this, the woman’s like an evil spector stealing into our homes and taking our happiness.”

“It’s just a TV,” Phil reasons, “I’m sure you deserved it.”

“She took away all the televisions,” Banner clarifies a moment later. “Thor isn’t even here anymore, he went to watch Toddlers and Tiaras with Darcy across town.”

“All of them,” Phil repeats, “Why?”

“She said it was compromising our productivity,” Rogers answers quietly, gazing wistfully over to an empty television center.

Phil looks across the couch and realizes half the gadgets are missing, even Stark’s practically alien stereo system is gone. He leans back and looks into the kitchen, and the small screen that hangs under the cabinets is gone, too.

"I even started to miss Barton's regular, mid-morning, Ted Nugent mocking hour." Natasha includes, hands on her hips, "No one should miss that."

"The DVR is gone too," Banner frowns in the direction of the entertainment system. "I still had a movie on there," he expounds, quieter.

"That still doesn't concern me," Phil blinks tiredly, "I was hoping to just- wait, took it away?" He feels his mouth tighten, an edge of irritation sifts through his mind. “It’s not part of the televisions.”

"Exactly," Stark agrees, a smug quirk at the corner of his mouth. “And correct me if I'm wrong, but weren't you recording the entire E! Channel?"

"No," Coulson denies half-heartedly. His exhausted mind is confused to where his annoyance is directed; Maria Hill should have just declared war on his sanity and saved him the trouble of going to Brussels. "Where's Clint?"

"Uh, Oh..." Steve grimaces and looks away.

"Yes, Captain Rogers?" Phil asks, getting ready for the familiar feeling of second-hand embarrassment.

"Steve is attempting to delicately break it that Barton went totally off the rails," Stark shrugs carelessly. "He's got an unhealthy obsession, man."

"You've been watching Law and Order through Jarvis on missions, Tony,” Rogers accuses, poking the other man in the chest, not a little indelicately.

Phil isn't sure what to say, so he just stares everyone down, hoping someone will spill so he won't have to use Clint's tracking chip.

"He might be on the roof again, using a sniper scope to peep in some poor person's living room," Banner confesses, letting out a huge sigh.

Phil pulls his cell out of his pocket and taps the screen lightly, dialing Fury's number. He turns around to give himself the illusion of privacy, and grimaces as Fury answers by dressing him down with what the Avengers have been up to in his week of absence. "Sir," he interrupts, trying not to sigh, "I will address all those issues tomorrow, but if I could get the tower's cable back in the next hour, it would really speed the return to equilibrium."

"And the DVR," Stark whispers, way, way too close to his ear.

Phil sighs. "And the DVR, sir." 

"Consider it done, Agent." Fury laughs, and Phil gets the uneasy feeling that the Director found this to be funny. "In return for my amicable agreement," Fury continues, his voice getting sharper with each word, "I would appreciate you collecting Barton from the break room."

"Of course, sir," Phil agrees. "It is a relief to hear that he's no longer on the roof." He disconnects the call with a click, and turns around to see the rest of the group staring at him in expectation.

"So?" Stark asks, hands clasped at his front.

"There should be a technician here momentarily," Phil says and sidesteps them to start towards the elevator. "I'm going to get Barton now and don't want to be bothered with any more of this until at least 9am tomorrow."

"Of course, sir." Rogers agrees, hand wrapped around Stark's mouth and muffling what was sure to be some uncouth joke.

The trip to SHEILD Headquarters is longer than usual, probably due to his increasing exhaustion, and by the time he makes it down to the breakroom he feels like just sitting down next to Barton and falling asleep to the sound of whatever cartoon the man is watching, something with a raccoon and a bluejay. Barton grins up at him when he steps in front of the television, patting the seat next to him in invitation. Phil shakes his head tiredly, and motions for the man to get up.

"Come on, your room should be getting its TV back as we speak."

"Really?" Barton asks excitedly.

A collective sigh goes around the room as the other Agents on break realize what that means.

Phil gives him a bored look, "Really."

Barton jumps up and stretches, clasping Phil's shoulder in thanks and walking towards the door. Phil tries not to lean in; this must be what Sisyphus feels every time he gets pushed back down that damned mountain.

"You look really tired, sir," Barton says, much too brightly. "Why aren't you asleep?"

"Had to come get you," Phil answers blankly, before the words catch up to him and he curses the honesty that comes with being this tired.

"Aw, that's sweet, but you could've just texted?"

They round a corner and Phil blinks slowly in confusion, wonder how they're already on the street.

"I wouldn't have known if you'd actually left." He tries to defend, but it sounds ridiculous out-loud. They make their way back to the tower in companionable silence, and he doesn't even realize how out of it he is until they're at the door.

"You're going to pass out the second you get near that bed, aren't you?" Barton teases, and his voice is almost fond.

Although that could be the sleep deprivation affecting his mind.

"Probably." Phil agrees, opening the door and pointing the other man towards the cable guy messing with the television. Stark is leaning over the poor man, and Phil does not envy that position for the world.

"Get some sleep, man, I need my sparring partner back," Barton says, pushing him towards his room. "It's not as fun with Natasha, I don't think she realizes it's not actually a competition."

Phil nods tiredly, not really hearing the words, and barely manages to take off his clothes as he enters the room, falls eagerly into the bed. He takes a spare moment to listen to the, very faint, traffic noise outside, and falls asleep to the delicate feeling of home.


End file.
